-When I meet thee by the way,
Like a pretty sportive child,
On the winter-wasted wild,
With thy darling breeze at play,
Opening to the radiant sky
All the sweetness of thine eye;

- Or bright with sunbeams, fresh with showers,
O thou Fairy-Queen of flowers!
Watch thee o'er the plain advance
At the head of Flora's dance;
Simple SNOW-DROP, then in thee
All thy sister-train I see ;
Every brilliant bud that blows,
From the blue-bell to the rose:
All the beauties that appear
On the bosom of the Year,

All that wreathe the locks of Spring,
Summer's ardent breath perfume,

Or on the lap of Autumn bloom,

-There is a Winter in my soul,

The Winter of despair;

O when shall Spring its rage control?

When shall the SNOW-DROP blossom there?

Cold gleams of comfort sometimes dart

A dawn of glory on my heart,

But quickly pass away:

Thus Northern-lights the gloom adorn,
And give the promise of a morn
That never turns to day!

-But, hark! methinks I hear

A still small whisper in mine ear;
"Rash youth, repent:
Afflictions, from above,
Are angels sent

On embassies of love.

A fiery legion, at thy birth,

Of chastening woes were given,

To pluck the flowers of hope from earth,

And plant them high

O'er yonder sky,

THE OCEAN.

WRITTEN AT SCARBOROUGH, IN THE SUMMER OF 1805.

ALL hail to the ruins,' the rocks and the shores!
Thou wide-rolling OCEAN, all hail!

Now brilliant with sunbeams, and dimpled with oars,
Now dark with the fresh-blowing gale,
While soft o'er thy bosom the cloud-shadows sail,
And the silver-wing'd sea-fowl on high,
Like meteors bespangle the sky,

Or dive in the gulf, or triumphantly ride
Like foam on the surges, the swans of the tide.

From the tumult and smoke of the city set free,
With eager and awful delight,

From the crest of the mountain I gaze upon thee;

I gaze, and am changed at the sight;

For mine eye is illumined, my Genius takes flight,
My soul, like the sun, with a glance
Embraces the boundless expanse,

And moves on thy waters, wherever they roll, From the day-darting zone to the night-shadow'd pole.

My spirit descends where the day-spring is born, Where the billows are rubies on fire,

And the breezes that rock the light cradle of morn
Are sweet as the Phoenix's pyre:

O regions of beauty, of love, and desire!
O gardens of Eden! in vain

Placed far on the fathomless main,

Where Nature with Innocence dwelt in her youth, When pure was her heart, and unbroken her truth.

But now the fair rivers of Paradise wind
Through countries and kingdoms o'erthrown;
Where the giant of Tyranny crushes mankind,
Where he reigns,-and will soon reign alone;
For wide and more wide, o'er the sun-beaming zone,
He stretches his hundred-fold arms,

Despoiling, destroying its charms;

Beneath his broad footstep the Ganges is dry,
And the mountains recoil from the flash of his eye.

Thus the pestilent Upas, the Demon of trees, Its boughs o'er the wilderness spreads,

1 Scarborough Castle.